


why didn't you wash the paint off?

by caramelcaramelcaramel



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artists, Body Paint, Coffee Shops, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Horny Peter Parker, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Michelle Jones-centric, No Angst, No Smut, POV First Person, POV Peter Parker, Peter Parker Swears, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Sassy Peter Parker, Slow Burn, Song: God is a woman (Ariana Grande)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcaramelcaramel/pseuds/caramelcaramelcaramel
Summary: peter knows the paint rinses off.mj knows that peter knows.peter also knows that if he rinses it all off, he'll chalk the whole afternoon up to some crazy fever dream.but now mj's narrowing her eyes at him, asking why he didn't wash it off, and he doesn't know if he can hide how he feels anymore.follow me on twitter for updates on new chapters or on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	why didn't you wash the paint off?

**Author's Note:**

> heyo, folks.  
> if you haven't heard, i made a twitter! you can follow me for updates on writing [here!](https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3)  
> or [here, if you prefer tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spideychelletings)  
> as for this fic, buckle in for 25 pages of yearning.

“That’ll be five fifty.”

The customer handed me a gift card, so I swiped it, and printed off the receipt with the remaining amount on the card, handing it back.

“Have a good one!”

“Thanks, you too.”

I checked the time as the customer stepped aside.

9:27.

I looked through the window, across the street. There was an art studio there, with big floor-to-ceiling windows and intense lighting.

It was owned by Stark Industries. I knew that because Mr. Stark often had me swing by at the end of a patrolling shift to make sure all was well.

It was solely occupied, most nights, by one Michelle Jones.

I got to work preparing the customer’s order, checking the time again. I’d see her cross the street in a couple minutes to order her usual latte and blueberry muffin. I made the customer’s hot chocolate, and called her over to take it. She smiled and left, and as she was heading out the door, she held it open a couple extra seconds.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

MJ came up to the counter. Today, there was a single smudge of white paint over her right eyebrow.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How’s your evening going?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Same soup, just reheated. Medium latte and blueberry muffin.”

“Six seventy-five.”

She handed me exact change, and I printed off her receipt for her.

“How late are you here tonight?”

“I’m the only one on, so…late,” I responded, handing her the muffin. “What about you?”

“I’ll probably head home after midnight. I’m working on a new promotional campaign.”

I dug my new phone out of my pocket. “This one?” I put it away and got started on her latte.

“Yep.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She rolled her eyes. “I had to do this photoshoot with a bunch of stuck-up models that Ms. Potts hired. The photos look good, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted to drop a light on them or something.”

I laughed. “You should tell Pepper. I’m sure she’d fire them.”

MJ shook her head. “Nah. As long as I don’t have to do another shoot with them again for a while, I’m fine.”

I finished up her latte and handed it to her. “Well, good luck with the rest of the campaign.”

“Thanks. Good luck with serving ungrateful assholes.”

She lifted her to go cup in a sort of salute, and then left.

It was the best part of my shift.

\---

The next day, Paul was at work, which meant I’d actually get my breaks.

At 9:30 on the dot, just like always, MJ came in. It’d been slower, so I already had her muffin and latte ready. She paid, and then looked at me, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re the right build…do you mind coming into the studio for a few minutes and modelling for me? I’m having a tricky time with a mural.”

I looked to my manager. “Hey, I’m gonna take that 15 now.”

“Yep.”

I took off my apron and hung it in the back, and then followed MJ out of the café and across the street.

She unlocked the front door, and led me into the studio. It smelled like paint fumes and was hot with the intense studio lights.

“So, uh, what exactly do you need me to do?”

She looked at me, dead serious. “I need you to strip and pose naked for me.”

I stared at her. “Oh, I, um, uh-”

“I’m kidding.” The corner of her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile, but she was clearly amused. “I mean, if you got naked it’d probably be easier, but I just need you to recreate a pose for me so I can draw the proportions right.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Good. What pose?”

“It’s for a Spider-Man mural. You know the pose he does against a wall?”

“Feet together, one hand up, one arm hanging?”

She snorted. “You have a crush on him, Parker?”

I played along, scoffing. “Pfft…no…that’d be ridiculous.”

“Alright, nerd, I just need you to replicate that but on the floor. Like, um, horizontally.” I raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Not like that.”

“You’re the one who asked me to get naked,” I said, raising my hands in defence, getting on the floor and replicating the pose.

MJ grabbed her laptop and crouched in front of me, looking back and forth between me and the screen. She put the laptop down and came over, gently placing her hands on my arm and guiding me into a slightly different position. She stepped back and looked at me, tilting her head, eyebrows pulling together and sliding her tongue across the bottom of her teeth.

“I feel like I’m on a porno set,” I joked.

“Oh, are you familiar with that feeling?” MJ teased back.

I smiled and shook my head. “Not yet, although I’m getting there.”

She chuckled, coming in close again, hands falling on my waist, guiding me so I had to bring my hips closer to the floor. More of a workout, but whatever made her mural easier.

I pretended my breath hadn’t caught in my throat the second her hands touched my waist.

She stepped back, examining me again, and then did a little half step, second guessing herself at the last second and looking at the laptop screen again.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself. She stepped back in, and one hand went to my thigh, and one to my calf. I found myself sucking in my breath, trying to ignore the feeling of her hand on my thigh. “Okay, stay exactly…yeah, exactly like this.”

She stepped back, and then took a bunch of photos of me.

“You can relax.”

I collapsed onto the ground. “It would’ve been easier to turn into Spider-Man and do that against a wall.” And I wasn’t exaggerating.

She laughed. “I’m sorry.”

I checked the time. “I’ve still got a few before I’ve gotta head back into work.”

She grabbed her muffin and came and sat on the floor with me, holding it out. “Here, we can split it.”

“No-”

“You’re a chemical engineering student, there’s no way you’re eating enough. It’s the least I can do. Come on.” I hesitated, and she sighed. “Parker, I’ll force feed you. I’ll do it.”

I reluctantly ripped a piece off. “So, why the mural?”

She pulled out her phone. “There was some big smear campaign that J J Jameson’s started about Spider-Man being ‘the worst thing that’s ever happened to New York’ or some such bullshit.” She showed me an article.

“Was he not there for the aliens?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s an asshole. But Mr. Stark wanted me to put a few pieces up around Queens to show support, so here I am.”

“Well,” I said, already regretting what I was about to say, “he did pick the best artist in the city.”

MJ snorted softly, looking at the ground. “Stop trying to flatter me, it’s weird.” But she was smiling, which was all that really mattered to me. “Honestly, as challenging as Spider-Man is to paint, I’m really excited. I’ve been doing all these promos for the new StarkPhone, and I finally get to do something new and fun and exciting. Photographing hand models with a phone isn’t nearly as exciting as a form study, you know? Spider-Man is always in an interesting pose, and the suit is so complex and difficult, and I get to paint it and try to get it right and make it my own and stylize it, you know what I mean?”

I tried to nod, but MJ laughed at me.

“Sorry, of course you don’t. It’s a very weird…”

“Art thing?”

“Yeah. Anyways, sorry I talked your ear off.”

I wanted to tell her that I could listen to her talk all day long, because her voice was beautiful and her face was so gorgeous when it lit up like that, but instead I said, “No, no, it’s okay.” I checked my phone. “I do have to go, though. Thanks for sharing your muffin with me.”

“Yeah, of course.” As I stood and went to leave, she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nodded. “I’ll be working.”

“So will I.”

She smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, nerd.”

I tried to hide my blush, and left.

I spent the rest of the night peeking through the windows and checking on her across the street. As the night went on, she and the studio became more and more colourful. It was fascinating watching her work. What was a blank canvas at the beginning of the night, became covered in brick and webbing and eventually the beginnings of the form – my form.

By the end of my shift, she had gotten down the colours on the suit, and was working on the logo.

I crossed the street and knocked on the window, and she glanced over. She had red paint all over her face and clothes, and a big paint brush in her hand, dripping paint onto the newspaper-covered floor.

I gave her a thumbs up through the window, and she smiled.

And then I headed home.

\---

The next day, right as the clock hit 9:30, MJ walked in. I already had her latte out for her.

“We’re out of blueberry muffins,” I told her. “Would you like a different muffin?”

MJ looked in the case. “Can I try the carrot muffin?”

“For sure.” I rung her up, she paid (exact change, as always), and I asked, “Do you need any help? I can take a fifteen.”

She smiled. “I could definitely use a hand.”

I took off my apron, told Paul, and headed off across the street with her.

The studio smelt like paint even more strongly today, and it quickly became evident why. The mural she’d been working on, the one of me, was still a work in progress. Today, however, there was a big ladder in front of it, with the top half of the mural only half-painted.

“So, how can I be of help?” I asked.

“Just need you to hold the ladder, maybe pass me some paint.”

“Shouldn’t you have an assistant for jobs like this?” I asked, holding the ladder steady as she grabbed a brush and palette and started to climb up.

“They don’t come around often. Plus, you know, there’s not many people whose company I can tolerate.”

I tried not to let it show how flattered (and giddy) I was that she considered me tolerable company. Coming from MJ, that was the highest of compliments.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to enlist me.”

She snorted. “Yeah, quit the café and work for me. I can pay you half of minimum wage on a good day. What an offer.”

“I’m here right now, for free, aren’t I?”

She looked down at me for a moment, her face unreadable. “How much time do you have left in your break?”

I let it go. Trying to get closer to her would only work on her terms.

Fair enough, I guess. She’d been through some shit.

After a few minutes of silence, she asked, “Hey, can you toss me that tube of cobalt paint?” I looked at her. She sighed. “Blue.”

“Yep.”

I grabbed a tube of paint and tossed it up, but she missed and it fell back down, into my hand.

“Nice catch, Parker.”

“Thanks.”

I started to climb up the ladder, paint tube in hand. I stopped a couple steps down from MJ. She turned a little too quickly, and started to fall towards me, shaking the ladder. I wrapped an arm around her waist, and shook my sleeve just enough for my webshooter to flip open, shooting a web from the ladder to the ceiling, stabilizing us.

“Holy fuck, Peter-”

I let go of the web, grabbing onto the cold metal of the ladder. “Sorry.”

“I- no, thank you,” she breathed, and I realized exactly how close we were. She was wide eyed and breathless and…right in front of me. “Um, you’re… more than about the right build.”

I chuckled, loosening my grip around her waist. “Yeah.”

“Guess I’ve got a better eye for it than I thought. Should’ve asked you to model in the suit.” She started to shift back, carefully shifting her balance. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret identity a secret.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I admitted. “I trust you.”

She smiled, looking down. “Okay, you should get back to work. Thank you for the webbing.”

I handed her the paint tube. “Good luck. Call me if you need anything else, okay?”

She nodded. “Will do.”

I climbed back down, shooting some webbing at the base of the ladder. “It dissolves after two hours.”

“Good to know. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

I let myself out of the studio, and headed back to work.

\---

Paul wasn’t in the next day, and I didn’t know that I could resist closing down the whole café to spend fifteen minutes with MJ, so I texted her in advance to let her know.

I got a sad face in response, and nothing else.

And then, at 9:30, like clockwork, MJ was strolling in. I was just finishing up her latte as she approached the cash register.

“Evening, Parker.”

I smiled, handing her the coffee. “Give me one second to grab you your muffin.”

“You restocked the blueberry,” she remarked.

“Yeah, well, I figured I probably traumatized you a little yesterday. Felt like I had to make up for it.” I handed her the bagged muffin.

“You’re gonna have to try harder to traumatize me,” she teased. “So, which one of these tables has the comfiest chairs?”

I frowned. “Don’t you have-”

“Finished the mural earlier, with the help of a very _intolerable_ assistant. So I’ve got the rest of the night off. And it’s definitely my turn to keep you company at work.”

Chuckling, I walked around the counter, and she followed me to a table near the back. It was closest to the kitchen, so it was warmer. I pulled out a chair for her, and she cracked a small smile as she rolled her eyes.

I sat down across from her.

“So, on a scale of one to ten, how bad was the assistant?”

MJ scoffed. “Eleven.”

“Flash doesn’t even score an eleven on your scales.”

“Ugh, yeah, well, Flash hasn’t flashed me.”

I coughed. “What?”

She laughed. “Okay, okay. When he got there, I had him helping me with the ladder and passing paint and everything, and he was so goddamn absentminded it was killing me. He couldn’t hand me the right paint on the first try, and he kept forgetting to hold the ladder. So, I took a ‘bathroom break’,” she said, doing air quotes with her fingers, “to call Ms. Potts to tell her how incompetent he was, for the sake of her not making the mistake of hiring him for something legitimately important-”

“Hey, your job is important.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “You only think that because I’m helping _your_ reputation, Spidey.”

“The better my reputation is, the better I can serve Queens,” I argued.

“You sound just like Stark,” she teased.

“Just… go back to your story, Jones.”

She gave me a look, but continued. “So I’m on the phone with Ms. Potts for all of two minutes, and when I walk back into the studio, the man is naked.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he legitimately tried The Naked Man-”

“From _How I Met Your Mother!_ ”

She laughed. “Exactly! Ugh, and he didn’t even have a good dick. Wasn’t worth it.”

I coughed. “That’s a little harsh.”

She shrugged. “I think if you’re gonna strip in front of a girl without her consent, you’re opening yourself up to criticism at the very least.”

“Fair enough. So what’d you do?”

She frowned. “I called the cops and he was arrested.”

“Good.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“What?”

“It’s just nice to talk to a guy who doesn’t defend the other guy.”

“Em, half of my job is punching asshole guys who do dumb things to get laid. Do you know how many guys I’ve webbed up in a back alley behind a club while their date is inside getting a replacement drink?”

She sipped her latte. “You make a fair point.”

“So, tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“How long ago did you figure out my secret identity?”

MJ chuckled. “Sophomore year.”

I sucked in some air through my teeth. “I’m that bad at keeping secrets, huh?”

“There were some things that were just a little too…convenient.”

I laughed.

“Seriously, Peter. The second you showed up at the Washington Monument, it clicked. And none of your half-baked excuses since could un-click it.”

“Not even Flash’s very comprehensive blog?”

She laughed again, and it sounded more and more like music. “He may have most of the world convinced, but he couldn’t even convince himself. Let alone me.”

I tried not to let all my admiration for her show. “God, you’re smart.”

“As opposed to?”

I snorted. “Me.”

“Give yourself more credit than that, Peter. You have your moments. You have my order memorized.”

“It’s a two-item order.”

“You’re also insanely smart to have come up with the web formula, not to mention your tweaks to Karen and everything you do at Stark Industries to help Stark with his projects.”

“Who-”

“I told Ned that I knew last year. He practically paid me so he could talk about it. And, in all honesty, I can see why he was so excited. Everything you do is…really…cool.” She looked down at the table, where her hands were fidgeting with her coffee sleeve, and then glanced back up at me.

“That is the best compliment I’ve ever received from you.”

“And you’ll never speak a word of it.”

I mimed zipping my mouth shut.

“Good.”

\---

I had the next couple days off, which I spent catching up on schoolwork and taking breaks from schoolwork by patrolling. I got back to work Sunday night; somehow more sleep deprived than before.

The door jingled as a customer walked in.

“Medium latte and a blueberry muffin.”

I glanced up, and saw MJ…dressed up. Her hair was slicked back into a straight ponytail, she had a bunch of makeup on, and she was wearing a floor length gown. She looked beautiful, of course, but…not like herself. The MJ I knew was wild curls and no makeup and paint-covered sweats.

“It’s 9:27,” I remarked.

“I know, I’m early, but I’m headed to a Stark event. I thought you’d be coming, too.”

I got started on her latte. “It’d look suspicious, and I’m trying to avoid all that suspicion, given what happened with Beck.”

She smiled. “I could always take you as my plus one.”

I shook my head, and I swore her face fell a little, but maybe I was just delusional. “Thank you, though.”

She reached into her clutch and pulled out her wallet.

“No, no. It’s on me tonight.”

“Peter, my order is almost what you get paid in an hour.”

“I know.”

She scowled, playfully, and then dropped a $10 bill into my tip jar. “Next time, I’m taking you. I’d be lucky to have a date even half as considerate.”

“I’m considering that a promise.”

“You should.”

I finished up her latte, and then bagged a blueberry muffin for her. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too, Peter.”

I watched her turn and leave, ponytail and dress flowing behind her.

I was in love with a goddess. There was no way I had a chance in hell.

\---

Monday evening, I had a different shift than usual. I was off at 9:45, so Paul could get some paperwork done before paychecks rolled out at the end of the week. I don’t know why he liked to get on top of it so early, but it worked for me. My paycheck had never been a second late.

At 7, MJ walked into the studio, and sat down at her desk.

At 9:28, she still hadn’t moved from it. I got started on her latte and bagged up her muffin, but she didn’t move.

“Uh, Paul, is it alright if I clock out 10 minutes early?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I clocked out, hung up my apron, and walked out with MJ’s coffee and muffin in hand. I crossed the street, and knocked on the door, catching her attention. She waved me in, so I pushed the door open.

“You do delivery now?”

“Only for the very special and important.” I set her coffee and muffin down on her desk.

“Thank you, Peter.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Are you…staying? I don’t need any assistance, but I could use the company.”

I smiled. “Whatever Her Majesty would like.”

“Oh, and let me pay you back for the-”

“No, no, you already paid.”

She gave me a quizzical look.

“The ten you gave me yesterday.”

“That was supposed to be for you.”

“Well, I’m treating you. What are you so focused on?”

I came around the desk and looked over her shoulder. It was a promotional poster, someone holding a shiny new phone to their ear, the Stark logo clearly visible on the back. They were cut off from the eyes up, ensuring the focus was on the phone. Next to the phone were some of the new specs, stuff like the new screen size, the extended battery life, etc.

“What do you think?”

“It looks great, MJ.”

She looked up at me. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I leaned in closer. “I mean, the colour correction around the phone is spot on, I loved the way you cropped the top half of his face, the-”

My voice trailed off as I realized how close our faces were.

“The what?”

“Ahem, um,” I backed up a little, just so I could focus, “the font. You had a good…font.”

She giggled a little, and turned back to the screen. “Do you think it’s done?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

She closed that window, only for another one to appear behind it.

“Thank you again for the coffee, clearly, I’m gonna need it.”

I sat down on the floor next to her. “No problem, MJ.”

“Do you want me to go get you a chair?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

We started chatting, and eventually, I slowly started to nod off. I was about to lay back, but MJ grabbed me, and pulled me in so I could lean my head against her leg. She started playing with my hair, and I fell asleep.

“Hey, Peter.”

I blinked my eyes open. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You needed the rest. It’s just, uh, time to go home.”

“I can walk you home, if you want?”

“You sure you have the energy?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

I helped her pack up and lock up the studio, and then we started towards her building.

“I love New York at night,” MJ said, her voice taking on a softer quality. “You know, apart from the fear of being raped and murdered.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely something I relate to.”

She snorted.

The city lights looked so good on her. Brake lights from cars and traffic lights were illuminating her skin. She looked gorgeous.

“What are you looking at, Peter?”

I looked away quickly. “Sorry.”

I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing me. I was too tired for a poker face, so I tried to look away.

“Can I ask how you ended up with…”

“Spider-bite,” I answered. “Radioactive spider-bite.”

“How did it get radioactive?” she asked.

I sighed. “Do you remember that Oscorp field trip?”

“Yes- Oh, the experiment they showed us!”

“Yep. A spider got in the chamber somehow, and then got out of the chamber. I still have the scar from the bite.”

“Can I see it?” she blurted.

I pulled up my sleeve, stopping my webshooter from snapping open with my thumb, and showed her the spot on my wrist.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, that’s the last time I scarred.”

“Well, I’m glad you were bitten instead of a dumbass like Flash.”

“God, imagine his ego if he’d gotten the powers.”

“He wouldn’t have been as successful,” MJ said. “He wouldn’t be able to make the webbing, for sure. And you know he’d be using the powers for his own selfish purposes, like impressing ladies or something.”

I snorted. “The day Flash actually impresses a lady is the day hell freezes over.”

“And that’s why I’m glad you’re the Spidey and not him.”

I gave her a look.

“What?”

“You’ve really been laying on the compliments lately. Are you building up to ask me for something?”

She smiled, shoving me playfully. “That’s what friends do, dumbass.”

“Wow, I’m considered a friend. I should put that on my résumé.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I have to make up for how deadpan you are.”

“I’m not deadpan,” she deadpanned. I stared at her, and she cracked a small smile.

It took all of my willpower to not drop on one knee right then. Just at the sight of her smile.

I was so far gone.

“Penny for your thoughts,” MJ said, nudging me. I snapped out of it.

“Two pennies to mind your own business.”

She feigned offence. “My, my, Peter, who talk you to be so snark- Stark.”

I nodded, laughing. “Hey, you also get partial credit, Em.”

She rolled her eyes, digging into her pocket. I realized we were at her building already.

“Well, Parker, thank you for walking me home. You’re allowed to pass out now.”

Biting my cheek to stop myself from smiling, I responded with, “Merci, Your Majesty.”

“Ooh, busting out the French.”

“I’m a closeted Canadian.”

MJ snorted. “You’re as polite as one. Anyways, um, I’m gonna…go get some sleep. You should, too. Text me when you get home, so I know you didn’t die?”

“I will.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, dweeb.”

And with that, she disappeared into her building.

I couldn’t stop beaming the whole way home.

\---

I got a call from MJ right after I got out of class. I was ready to go home and take a nap before work, but she said, “Hey, uh, I have kind of a big ask. Can you model for a body paint project? Like, right now.”

Before I could register what any of it meant, I responded. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll head over to the studio.”

“Thanks.”

I got on the subway, and headed over.

As I was walking down the street towards the studio, I thought about what it might mean. Was I gonna have to take off my shirt? Lay on my stomach and let her paint my back, like people do on TikTok?

I walked into the studio, and MJ was getting paint supplies and brushes ready.

“Hey, that was quick.”

“I was on campus.”

“Ah.”

“So…what exactly does this job entail?”

“Uh, well, I’m gonna need you to change.” She held up a pair of nude briefs.

I tried not to let my shock show. “O-okay.”

“You sure?”

“MJ, if you need help, that’s what I’m here for.”

She smiled. “Thank you so much, Peter. Lunch is on me.”

I playfully grumbled, “It freaking better be.” I grabbed the briefs and headed to the backroom to change.

I felt naked. I mean, I practically was. The briefs didn’t exactly leave a whole lot to the imagination.

After hyping myself up in the mirror, I walked out of the backroom, incredibly self-conscious.

“You know, when I made that joke about doing porn, what, a week and a half ago? I wasn’t expecting to actually get naked for you.”

MJ gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry. It’s just so I can paint over you.”

I suddenly realized exactly where she would be painting. What had I gotten myself into?

“Uh, just…let’s sit you over here.”

She led me over to a newspapered area of the studio, and had me lay down on my stomach.

She had music going while she painted, and I tried to focus on how eclectic her taste was, rather than the feeling of brushes or fingers gliding over my very bare skin. Seriously, who has Pachelbel’s Canon after a Michael Jackson mashup and before “Take On Me” by a-ha? She was an absolute madwoman.

Then again, I blindly agreed to strip for her, so I was probably crazier.

Besides, it’s not like her weird playlist made her any less attractive to me. If anything, it made me wanna talk to her more. I wanted to hear the reasoning behind it.

If it weren’t for the fact that it was MJ, I could’ve fallen asleep. However, when the girl you’ve been crushing on since you were sixteen is straddling you while she paints your back, it’s a little difficult to calm down and drift off.

Her brushes were tickling me as they brushed over my skin, and she worked her way from my neck and shoulders, down my back, and then down to my hips.

“Hey, let’s take a break. I need to stand up and stretch,” MJ said, getting off me. I got up, overly cautious about the wet body paint all over my back. “You’re good, dude, you’re not gonna smudge it. It’s pretty dry.”

I stretched, arching my back with my arms over my head, hands interlocked.

“I know what’ll help us loosen up.”

I started to give MJ a look, but she was in the backroom. She came back with a pack of balloons.

“Uh…”

“So what we’re gonna do is have a contest blowing these up, I’ll paint your chest, then we’ll bat the balloons around like 5-year-olds.”

I grabbed a red balloon. “Sounds good to me.”

MJ grabbed a black one. “Three, two, one.”

We started blowing. I went slower than I could, figuring my superhuman lungs were an unfair advantage anyways. And hey, maybe a tortoise-beats-hare approach was right here.

But MJ won, and I found myself happy she’d won over me.

She stuck her tongue out at me as she tied off her balloon. I finished off my balloon, and tied the knot.

“Sucks to suck,” she panted.

She wiped her hand over eyebrow, leaving a smear of pale blue paint behind. I realized that she had paint in her hair, on her eyebrow, her cheekbone, her collarbone, her hands, and all over her jeans.

The studio lights were hitting her just right, making her skin glow and her eyes light up.

Why on earth did I agree to this?

“Alright, let’s get started on your chest. I’ll grab you a stool to sit on.” She disappeared for a moment, coming back with a wooden stool. “There was a swiveling one, but knowing you, you wouldn’t be able to stay still.”

“Wise choice,” I responded, sitting down. She got her palette and brushes, and stood in front of me, mixing paints while she analyzed my body, walking around me.

This was a very confusing experience for my brain. She was hot, and this was…hot, but it was also so insanely platonic that it almost hurt.

I focused more on the soreness developing in my butt from the hard wooden chair than MJ’s focused gaze, and brush grazing over my shoulders.

Except that I couldn’t. My ass soreness was nowhere near comparable to the incessant pounding of my heart, or all the breathing I wasn’t doing because my breath had caught in my throat five minutes ago and hadn’t come back.

She was stunning. So, so stunning. Every curl, as messy and wild as they were, seemed to frame her face perfectly. She was gently chewing at her lip as she focused. Her eyes were laser focused and full of intention. Her hands were somehow graceful and delicate as they placed every drop of paint perfectly.

“Peter, you don’t have to hold your breath. It won’t mess me up.”

I took in a deep breath. “Right.”

She smiled at me, and our faces were so close that I could lean in just an inch and press my lips to hers, and it was so, so tempting. They were a little shiny and pink from being chewed on, and maybe this tension would finally disperse, but I couldn’t.

And then she was back to painting, and I deflated.

She spent more time on my chest, paying closer attention to detail and spending a lot of time on a long dark shape, going up from my hip to about armpit height on my chest.

And then she moved down my body, painting over my hips and butt and…everywhere in the general area. I had to hold my breath and think hard and something else to avoid anything embarrassing.

In my defence, there was a lot of sensation through these briefs.

We took a break to bat the balloon around after she finished painting over the briefs, and then we got back into it.

She got to my legs, and finished off the dark shape from my hips and then painted my legs blue, blending several shades together.

“Alright, do you wanna look in the mirror before we take photos?”

“Sure.”

She led me to the back of the studio, and turned on some lights. There was a floor length mirror, and once the lights had flooded the room, I realized exactly what MJ had painted on me.

“Starry night.” It started at the base of my neck, the sky taking up most of my torso. Instead of the weird spire(?) from the original, there was the Empire State Building. The rest of the skyline was high rise buildings, right around my lower belly and just above my hips. The skyline faded out into a purple blue on my legs.

“I know, it’s basic, but-”

“No, no no no, this isn’t basic at all. You somehow incorporated the New York skyline.”

She shrugged.

“MJ, you’re so fucking talented.”

She cracked a smile. “Thanks, Peter.” She started to turn off lights, stretching up to reach cords and switches. “Let’s get back into the studio.”

I followed her out, and she turned on more lights and positioned me in front of a white backdrop, and then grabbed her camera off the desk and came back over.

“I don’t know how to model.”

“I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

I stood awkwardly, and she took a couple photos, and then started giving me pointers, like “look to the side” or “relax your arms” or “shift your weight to the other foot”. Slowly, I relaxed, and I didn’t find the camera so scary.

Finally, she said, “I think I have everything I need. There’s a shower in the back, so you can go wash everything off while I clean up.”

“Thanks.”

I went to the back, and found a bathroom with a (pretty tiny, even by studio-apartment-in-New-York standards) shower.

I took off the briefs, and got in, scrubbing most of my skin clean. It came off really easily, but I purposefully left some patches.

Call me whipped, but I wanted a reminder, at least for the rest of the day.

I got out, towelled off, and redressed.

“Need any other help?” I asked.

MJ shook her head. “Thank you so much.”

“Can I ask why you needed those photos?”

“Mr. Stark commissioned it. Needed to…show his support of local art because he’s sponsoring a school, I think.”

I smiled. “Well, I’m glad I could be of service.”

“I owe you lunch,” MJ reminded me as I headed out the door.

Body painting had taken forever, so I headed into work, sitting down at a table in the café to eat and do some homework before my shift started. I got a fair amount done before I was supposed to start.

I clocked in, put on my apron, and stood at the cash register.

The time I spent with MJ replayed in my head the whole shift. I kept thinking about how I could’ve kissed her, but I chickened out.

When I had a break between customers, I rolled up my sleeve, running my thumb over the now-muddled blue paint left on my arm, reminding myself that it was real, it’d really happened, I was that close to God.

Ariana Grande was right. God is, in fact, a woman.

I was so spaced out that 9:30 rolled around before I knew it. MJ walked in, and I snapped out of a daze, getting her blueberry muffin bagged in a panic.

“Did you forget about my daily visit?”

“Just lost track of the clock.”

She handed me the cash and I passed her the blueberry. She frowned, looking at my arm, and grabbed my hand before I could pull my arm back.

“Why didn’t you wash off all the paint?” she asked.

I panicked. I couldn’t tell her it didn’t wanna come off, it basically rinsed off with no effort. It took effort to keep some _on_.

She narrowed her eyes at me, and I realized she knew. She knew exactly why. “You know, all it takes is soap.”

I nodded, swallowing thickly.

“It clearly didn’t stain your skin.”

I cleared my throat. “Um, let me get-get started on your, um, your latte.”

I pulled my arm away and grabbed a medium cup, walking away from her to get the latte started. She followed me, eyes analyzing me as she peered over the machine.

“Why’d you leave it on?”

All I could think about was her hands on my bare skin.

“Peter-”

Paul materialized out of nowhere, thank god, interrupting with, “Sorry, ma’am, but we have strict policies around treatment of employees.”

He pointed to a sign that read, _“Management reserves the right to deny service to customers abusing, harassing, or otherwise mistreating and disrespecting staff. Thank you.”_

She opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it. “Right. Sorry.”

She stood there silently as I finished her latte.

“Have a good night,” I told her quietly.

She gave me a quizzical look and didn’t respond.

I didn’t take another break that night. I just watched her from across the street.

Every once in a while, I caught her staring back.

When my shift was over, it was 11, and I was exhausted and confused. I went into the back, finished up inventory, hung up my apron, finished cleaning up, and then started to head out the front.

The lights in the studio were off now. Maybe MJ had gone home.

I locked up behind me, and then turned around to head home, only for MJ to appear with a paper bag from the liquor store in hand.

“Come on.”

“Em…”

“I insist.” She held out her hand and glared at me until I took it, and then led me across, back to the studio, turning on minimal lighting and then passing me the back.

I took a swig. It was fruit-flavoured vodka.

Better than plain. I took another swig, and then handed it back.

The first few minutes were silent. Just us staring at the ground, passing a bottle of vodka back and forth.

And then she started talking.

“So, I had to deal with a client today who didn’t understand how flat rates work. They kept demanding discounts and rebates and coupons, or way more than I offer, and then screamed at me when I told them that if they want a discount, there are no satisfaction guarantees. That was a fun way to spend my afternoon.” She grabbed the bottle from me and took a swig.

I waited a moment, and then summoned the courage to pipe up. “I had a mom and her kids come in earlier, demanding stuff from the summer menu, but we don’t have the ingredients for it because it’s…not summer. So she demanded to speak with my manager, so Paul had to explain to her how seasonal menus work, and that didn’t satisfy her. So I found our accounting stuff from over the summer and gave her the numbers of how much it would cost her to order in those items so she could have her fucking raspberry, frou-frou, la-di-da bullshit in the dead of winter.”

“And?”

“She bought a cappuccino and left me the fuck alone.”

MJ snorted. “I like drunk Peter. He’s fun.”

“Why, because I swear?”

“Yeah.”

I grabbed the bottle back. “That’s dumb.” I gulped some raspberry, frou-frou, la-di-da bullshit down. It felt well-earned, after the day I’d had.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s dumb to like me more when I swear more.”

“I just like you more when you’re not some pent-up silent weirdo.”

“Oh, I’m the weirdo?” I teased.

“Shut up,” she said, shoving me playfully.

I shoved her back. “No, no, no, MJ, it takes one to know one.”

She glared at me, and then pulled a can of paint out from under the desk she was leaning against, and dipped her hand in it, splattering pink paint across my shirt. She grinned as I stared down at my shirt in shock.

“You deserved that.”

“Oh, yeah? Well you deserve this!” I put the vodka down on the desk and dunked my hand into the paint, throwing paint back at her. It covered her clothing, and she gasped.

“It’s on.” It was practically a growl.

We went to war against each other, finding paint cans and throwing new colours of paint at each other, running around the studio trying to avoid sprays of red and yellow and green and blue and pink and purple.

After about fifteen minutes of this, we were out of breath and covered in paint.

I realized, bittersweetly, that the blue paint on my arm from earlier was now covered in orange and green.

MJ got distracted, and I very quickly realized why. Her white backdrop was now a very colourful abstract piece. She sat down hard in front of it, and I thought she was upset, so I rushed over.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure-”

She cut me off, her voice quiet as she did. “Why didn’t you wash the paint off?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with a lie. “It felt…wrong. To wash off all the evidence. You painted a really beautiful piece and it was weird to see it literally going down the drain,” I bullshitted.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s a load of shit, Peter. Tell me the real reason.”

I looked at her, in all of her ethereal, colourful beauty.

And I couldn’t lie.

“I’m in love with you.”

She stared at me for a moment, and then turned back to the abstract piece that was once her pristine backdrop. “Well, that’s convenient.”

I blinked. “Why?”

She laughed a little, more at herself than me. “Why would Mr. Stark commission Starry Night on a nude model?” She looked up at me, now laughing more at me than at herself.

I laughed too, out of feigned offence and shock. “I thought he was sponsoring a school?”

She giggled as she shook her head, and then her head fell back as she watched my offence grow.

I shoved her playfully, which turned into wrestling, the two of us tracking more colours onto the backdrop as we rolled around, laughing and tickling each other.

We stopped after a few moments, and I was on top of MJ. She was still smiling, and I’d never seen anything so genuine and beautiful.

“So, I don’t have to cry over unrequited love?” I asked.

She shook her head, pressing her lips together, unsuccessfully preventing herself from smiling. “Nope.”

“So say it.”

She frowned, smile beginning to fade. “Say what?”

“Tell me you love me back.”

The smile was gone now. This was 100% serious MJ. And she was vulnerable, and raw, and I swear I saw my whole future in those three seconds of hesitation.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

And I kissed her.

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoyed. like i said, follow the twitter! (even if you don't have an account, you can find my twitter here https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3 and be able to view tweets about upcoming fics or updates to fics in progress) i asked for title suggestions but I was (as you usually are on twitter) screaming into the void. I wanna be able to take recommendations, ask for what you guys want, and twitter is a better platform for that so y'know. help me help you out.  
> until the next one :)


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